Domo Arigato
by Flaming Trails
Summary: BackToTheFanfic LJ community challenge fic. Trilogy. Doc thinks about life in 1885 as opposed to 1985, and the choices he's made along the way.


Domo Arigato

A BTTF: PreTime Story

By Flaming Trails

_Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, I would commission the Foglios to draw a "Boy Genius" series based on Doc. (Go read "Girl Genius." NOW.)_

_Notes: Written for the August BackToTheFanfic LJ challenge. Doc blowing up his forge with a prototype Presto-Log comes from a throwaway line in "Back To The Future Part III ½."_

August 29th, 1885

Hill Valley

1:21 P.M.

Dr. Emmett "Doc" Brown watched as his latest customer left his blacksmith shop. The man, a local farmer nicknamed Rusty, had just dropped off his lead horse to be reshoed. Although he'd been nothing but polite to Doc during the transaction, he'd been obviously ill at ease in the shop, constantly glancing around at the various bits of machinery as if they were about to jump up and bite him. Doc had tried to reassure him that they were nothing to be afraid of -- just inventions he had lying around -- but it hadn't helped. _A lot of my customers are like that nowadays,_ Doc thought as he patted the horse's nose. _It's almost like being back home in 1985 in a way. My old repair shop customers were always wary about coming to my home as well._

Doc sighed and lead the horse around to the stables. Even in this time period, he couldn't escape those looks. Couldn't escape the fact that he was different. _Though I suppose that it's my own fault,_ he thought as he put the horse in a stall and gave it some feed. _They weren't that afraid of me until I blew up my forge with that overpowered Presto-Log. Once I admitted that I was a scientist, a tinkerer -- well, things just went downhill._

He had to admit, though, that things weren't as bad here as they had been in 1985. He provided a very necessary service to these people, and they rewarded him with a modicum of respect. Whereas, in 1985, anyone could call up another repair service, and thus felt no qualms about making jokes about him and his mobile repair van. It felt good to be truly needed. To know that, despite their reservations, people would trust him with their all-important wagons and horses.

Then again, those reservations made for good street gossip. In 1985, he was at least familiar to everyone. Most people here openly wondered who he was, why he was here, and why he was so secretive about his origins. Doc smiled to himself. _If only they knew the truth. I am the modern man, with a secret I'm hiding under my skin -- a denizen of the future trapped in the past. Back in 1985, if anyone saw me acting strangely, they wouldn't be surprised. In this time period, however, one wrong move and I could end up dead._

_End up dead. . . ._

A wave of depression hit Doc. Lately, it seemed he constantly had to hide in some way to stay alive. First he had to hide from the Libyans, then he had to hide from Biff Tannen's gang in "Hell Valley," and now he had to hide the truth about himself from his neighbors. It was getting on his nerves. _I wish I had someone I could really talk to. Anyone. Despite what some people in 1985 might think, I'm _not _a robot without emotions, a machine or mannequin. My heart's still human, my blood still boils, even if my brain is IBM. I can talk to people here, sure -- Chester, Hubert, Seamus and Maggie McFly -- but not about the things I _want_ to talk about._

McFly. That was the crux of the matter. He missed Marty. He wished the teen was here with him. _We've already been through so much together. I wonder what he would say if he _was_ here?_ Doc smirked to himself. _Probably complaining about how much he wanted to go home. Although it's possible he'd be thanking me for doing the jobs nobody wanted to, for helping him escape just when he needed to. We've saved each other so many times that I bet most people would consider us heroes of a sort._

Doc's smile dropped. _I'm not a hero, or a savior. I'm just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control. I just did what I had to, to keep the space-time continuum on track and myself and Marty safe._ He glanced around at his surroundings. _A fat lot of good it did in the end. Here I am, trapped in the past, probably having all sorts of strange effects on the space-time continuum. _He scowled. _Damned time machine. The problem's plain to see -- too much technology. If I hadn't built that infernal machine, both Marty and I would be safe at home in 1985. God damn it!_

Doc allowed himself to fume for a moment, just to get it out of his system. Then rational thought took over again. _Don't be silly. It's not the time machine's fault. And not all of our experiences with time travel have been bad. Marty's certainly benefitted from changing his family life. And really, 1885 isn't a bad place to be stranded. I always wanted to be a cowboy when I was a kid. Fresh air, wide-open spaces, plenty of opportunities to reverse-engineer 1985 technology. . . . . And so far, it appears my presence here hasn't affected the future too badly. None of the future technology I brought back with me has changed in any discernable way, at any rate. The locals avoiding me is probably a blessing as far as the space-time continuum is concerned. I just wish the time would come at last so I could throw away this mask and let everyone see my true identity again._

Doc shrugged and sighed. _Oh well. The important thing is that I get everything settled so Marty can get home again. I still have to finish drafting that letter to him. And of course I have horses to shoe, and my ice-making refrigerator to complete. The real question is --_

_why in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton is "Mr. Roboto" playing in my head?_

The End


End file.
